


And I'm Not Proud That Nothing Will Seem Easy About Me

by mechanicalOdyssey



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ??????, Alternia, F/F, Politics, Sort of angsty???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicalOdyssey/pseuds/mechanicalOdyssey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Feferi does not know how to woo a girl. Excuse me, gill. Excuse me, Nepeta Leijon, her bodyguard.<br/>in response to this prompt:<br/>"The Empress and her bodyguard. They have hot sex and/or domesticity. OR BOTH?????<br/>An AU with Feferi as the ascendant Condesce and Nepeta is either her personal guard or a high-ranking military official or something. I'd prefer an established relationship with lots of domesticity/familiarity in any quadrant. BONUS POINTS if there's some sort of political intrigue, but that's not at all a requirement. That would be the icing on the cake, so to speak."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [placentalmammal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/gifts).



> formerly titled 'How Did This Happen; or, Empress Feferi Makes Mistakes' but then I was like /song lyrics/  
> title is from Relief Next To Me by Tegan and Sara. (Oh man. I love Tegan and Sara so much you don't even know. If you're reading this, rad, you're cool for reading my fic, but please listen to Tegan and Sara music. They are so great.)  
> Idk about the ending, I should probably change it.  
> 

You sit at the altar of democracy and diplomacy, bored to the tips of your horns. Being Alternia's first non-dictator Empress is harder than it looks. It involves a lot of meetings. And you're brand new at all of this.

It hasn't even been five months since you succeeded the Condesce and you've only just finished figuring out how you want this to work and appointing staff. The list of things to do just goes on and on. You've only had time to pass two pieces of legislation: make murder illegal and classify lowbloods as equal trolls.  Also, there was the awkward necessity of having to make the law actual law, as opposed to troll society's idea of law, which is more analogous to a 'general suggestion'. Or the way 'law' is used in troll court to mean 'ancient and obscure traditions that we can use to give lowbloods death sentences, like bans on whistling specific tunes near crows.' Just plain ridiculous.

You have a council of around 30 assholes who're supposed to advise you, but mostly they just yammer until you'd rather watch paint dry.

Today, you tap your trident on the floor and everyone shuts up. Power still comes with advantages, after all.

"So... we're going to war? Already?"

There is a general consensus from your council.

Maybe you should have been paying more attention.

"Boat - but why?"

"Empress, surely you are not that oblivious-"

No one can talk to you like that. You giggle in a high-pitched and not unthreatening way. "Clam up and get the SHELL out of here. I'm the queen." You love saying that.

The troll sniffs contemptuously, but absconds when you shake your trident in his general direction. 

"Al-ray-t. Is this cause that one planet refused to bargain and didn't offer to willingly cede all their land n property to the Empire, ergo they're awful and we must destroy them, etcetera?"

"Vyljoena, Empress. And, well, that's one way of seeing it-"

"It's a glubbing ridiculous way of seeing it. Reform doesn't mean the same bad system just with all you telling me what to do. Half you are just here because you think it's an easy way to seize power. Nah. This is cause I am _not_  the Condesce. I'm gonna do this betta. Less Suffering genocide for one thing."

Obnoxious purplebloods.

Isn't that most of your council?

Hold up.

"Wait. How many of you are seadwellers?"

Shit, that's at least half the room.

"How many are shades of blue and up?"

Shit, that's everybody. 

You groan and lower your head into your hands. God damn it, Feferi. You may have changed the laws and made some things better, but you are still so behind.  "Fuck. I fucked up."

All of your council looks scandalized and the noise level in the room increases from 'businesslike conference' to 'loudly muttered objections and name-calling'.

"Quiet, shrimp. Way I sea it, you're gonna be leaving me alone right aboat now. There will be no war of any kind, not yet anyway. I don't care how offended you are by the existence of other species. Shut up. And someone find some lowbloods to work here. On the council, not as maid service. Meeting dismissed."

Bureaucracy gives you a headache. And you may not be very good. You may be putting up a bit of a front. But never let it be said you did not even try. 

The next week, you have three more assassination attempts than usual.

 You also see five greenbloods, two brown and a yellow at your next meeting. They're having a hard time being heard, so you abandon seminar style discussion and throw at least half the highbloods out of the room.   

You wave a hand and say "talk" but you're admittedly surprised by the quality of their ideas. And how polite they are. They can definitely stay.

You decide to reach out to more lowbloods. It'd be great if you weren't a casteist piece of seaweed.

So obviously you decide to start with the lowbloods closest to you: your staff.

Most of them don't want to talk to you and dissuade you with polite nothings.

And then there's Nepeta.

Your personal guard is a short, wiry oliveblood with a puff of short hair. She deals with the garden-variety assassinators herself and assists you with the personal ones if you're tired or busy. There haven't been any heiresses yet; they're not common. You'd have to fight those all by yourself, but she can challenge them beforehand. Ideally, they get tired out and the fight swings in your favor. She also happens to be very good at her job.

"Hey, Nepeta!"

"Your Imperial Radiance."

"My name is Feferi!"

"Sure is!"

She's near you almost constantly and yet you had to ask for her name three times in the first week of talking to her like a person.

"Sorry, uh-"

"Nepeta. Nepeta Leijon." She doesn't lose patience with you, just rolls her eyes in a laconic, almost feline way.

"I know! I remember!" 

She just nods, apparently able to resist raising an eyebrow.

"Nepeta!"

“That’s right.”

You are surprised that she's just like a highblood, only a lowblood. Which makes you feel guilty. You're not that casteist! You want to help the lowbloods. You _can_  do what's best for ALL of troll society. Just... you hadn't really known any lowbloods personally.

Once you get over the initial barrier of remembering her name and that she's a normal person, you find you actually really like her. She's funny and playful and a little sassy. Caring. Tough. Good at keeping you not dead.

She's also really pretty. Are all lowbloods pretty? The ones on your council aren't as pretty as her.

Anyway. You look forward to talking to her now. Almost like when - no, what are you thinking. How would this be anything like that stupid flushcrush from a sweep ago? You and Nepeta are just casually friendly.

You find yourself talking to her more and more.

"What do you think of Counciltroll Klaznt?"

She makes a face. "Soooo stuffy!"

"Are any of them not??" you say and the two of you laugh.

Her laugh is deep and throaty, almost like a purr. Sometimes being with her is - it's like being six and free of responsibility again.

You like watching her eliminate your assassins, ruthless and badass. She is gracefully fierce, a lioness in her element.

After a while of you awkwardly reaching out to her, she starts bringing you warm landweller drinks at night and chatting.

"You reely don't have to, Nepeta! I'm sea-rious. You don't have to like me to be my personal guard." You do mean it, but you really hope she genuinely likes you as a troll and not the Empress.

But she always sets the kimarl or skebni or tolhei or whatever in front of you and flops onto the arm of the other chair.

"I like you, Feferi!" She smirks. "Honestly, you're not so bad for a snooty highblood."

You grin back and she gives you a high-five.

You request that she stay at the palace more - for a little extra, of course (Budget? You control all the money in the galaxy). There is a nice room available in the staff wing. She accepts the proposal, probably only because she pockets five hundred extra caegars a week. But you hope she honestly likes you. You could use a friend.

You catch her saying "pawsibly" and "fur" and "beclaws" so the two of you have pun contests. It is silly and unprofessional of you, but it's also some of the most fun you've had in sweeps.

“Purrhaps efurrypawdy is fel-ine-ing so strongly about this decision beclaws they’re furstrated mew nefur gave them a choice.”

“Whale, it’s shore finny you shoal-d glub that. I manta to, boat I codn’t. There was no op-perch-tuna-ty to discus or debait.”

“Empurress Fefurry Pawxes, your pawlitics are pawsitively purrplexing and purrpawsterous, I’m afuraid ”

Both of you try very hard to keep a straight face and always fail.

You eat with her when you don't have to see diplomats or generals. She refuses to have you order double from the kitchen and brings her own food the way she’s always done. It's mostly traditional olive stuff and completely unfamiliar to you. You ask her to try some and she laughs for almost two minutes. When you actually do have some, you are shocked. You've had landweller food before, but admittedly, you haven't ever really eaten a meal that cost fewer than 250 caegars, or a meal originally for anyone under teal. Her food is both.

She watches your reaction carefully and rolls her eyes. "Some of us eat this way every day," she chides. "Not everyone can have ymbiole eggs and cholerbear tartare for every meal."

You are embarrassed. "It's good! I was just... surprised."

You're beginning to settle into the role of Empress but it's infinitely reassuring to have her with you at almost all times. She keeps you steady.    

She starts calling you Feferi consistently. You notice that.

"Nepeta?"

"Feferi!"

"I appreciate you."

She grins. "I should hope so!"

You start to show up at her respiteblock whenever you're worried or lonely.

"It's just so complicated and I don't know what to do, Nepeta," you carp one night, nearly in tears. "I'm a mess!"

“You’ll be okay,” she says, seeming slightly uncomfortable.

“I- I-“ you break off, distraught. “I need to calm down.” What you really need is someone to calm you down, shoosh you into pacification, which is probably obvious to everyone except you.

Nepeta is aware of this. She sits silently for an uncharacteristically long time. "Look, Empress… I'm not your palemate," she says finally with an air of resolve.

"Feferi," you correct absently and then what she said really hits you. Horrors above and Gl’bgolyb below. Well then. That... would actually explain your feelings, wouldn’t it?

You look up from your hands and directly at her. "But... You could be."

She shakes her head quickly and smiles tensely at you.

"No, really. I mean it."

She laughs out loud almost bitterly and puts her hands to her head in fake despair. But you think she actually looks sort of upset. "Suff, Feferi, whatever shall we do with you. Sorry, but I have a moirail. We've basically been together since we were six."

Oh.

Even though your skin is on the darker end of the grey spectrum, right now your tyrian blush is embarrassingly bright and obvious. Why are you so wrong and self-centered?      

"Don't execute me, your Radiance," she teases, but it comes out half-hearted and uncertain.  Even resentful.

"I wouldn't do that!" you exclaim, perhaps more vitriolic than you intended to be. Now you're blushing more. "Let's- let's pretend this never happened."

"Yeah."

After a pause, she speaks up again. "If it's okay with you, I'd been meaning to take some leave for a while."

It sounds polite and formal, but she's definitely not going to accept anything resembling a 'no'. If she were a seadweller, you're pretty sure she would be bristling her fins towards you.

You had almost forgotten she's been living in staff quarters at the palace since you started being friends.  Usually that only happened when something was up and you needed extra security. Two different guards who hadn't wanted to make much more contact with you other than the occasional "Your Radiance" take shifts outside your room on days. 

Wait, she probably lives with her moirail at home. Oh, shit. You've kept her away from her moirail for almost the entire dim season. You're a terrible... friend.

"We've been Troll Skyping but it's not the same," she mutters almost to herself.

She's challenging you. She doesn't think you would do anything for her. She's testing you to see if you care. To take advantage of you. That's such a shitty thing. Who does she think she is?

"I mean it's not my fault." You honestly don’t know what you're saying anymore. The words just rush out of your mouth. "I didn't know. I thought you wanted to be here. I thought you wanted this job. I thought you liked it. Liked me." The more you talk, the more upset you are.

She glares at you. "This is not my life, Feferi. Empress. You are not my life. This is my job."

"I thought I was more than that to you! I thought we were at least friends! You lied to me!" You feel like you're going to vomit. This is going so wrong.

"I didn't do anything here! You. You, Feferi, you are the problem. I was just your little experiment to see if the almighty Condesce can make friends with a lowblood."

"How dare you! I am not her! I am not the Condesce! Why are you doing this? You can’t do this to me! I have been nothing but nice to you!" Both of you are shouting now.

"I'm not your pet! You kept me away from my home, my life, and my moirail. I could be triple quadrantlocked for all you know."

"But you're not, are you?"

"That's not the point!"

“Why can’t you be grateful? I didn’t have to do this for you! You’re just a guard!”

The sudden silence is very loud.

Nepeta looks like she is _this_ close to fucking you up.

You’re angry, but you’re beginning to understand that the anger is just a cover for your selfishness. And now guilt. That was awful of you. And now she just looks silently furious. Even that’s not quite right. You realize that she looks betrayed.

"Do I get leave?" Her voice is angry: hard and flat.

"Y-yes, go!" It comes out more frantic than you want it to. Like you want to get rid of her.

The silence is briefly very awkward. Then Nepeta just says "Okay" and starts packing a bag, right then.

She doesn't have very many things.

You get up to leave so that she can go to sleep, but she is taking the bag and leaving too. What? It is the middle of the day!

"Are you... leaving? Now?"

"... Yes. Do you have a _problem_  with that?"

"Oh. I mean, no. I – I don’t."

Both of you hesitate at her door.

"Are you coming back?" you finally say.

"If I still have this job," she says.

You gape. Does she really think you would fire her? "Whale, you do."

"Good!" she snaps. "I need it," she mutters reluctantly.

You hear her pad away quietly throughout the rest of the sunshiny and deserted palace halls.

She puts on a sun-protection cloak and strides out into the day, even though the cloaks are unreliable at best. This is all your fault. How could you be so self-centered?

You shrink back to your Imperial Respiteblock and brush past the judgmental-looking day guard.

You collapse into your recuperacoon and stain the slime with the watery fuchsia of your messy tears.

When you wake up, everything is still the same. You are incompetent and Nepeta is gone.

Her absence is hellish and exhausting.

It’s only now that you’re realizing how dependent you are on her, how much she really matters to you. You refuse to replace her even briefly and are almost really assassinated. You have gotten out of practice.

The scar the attempt leaves is almost shaped like her sign. You find yourself tracing it a lot.

The other three attempts that week all make you cry.

It feels like you're missing a physical part of yourself.

You can't focus at all. You fire the wrong counselor by accident and offend an ambassador.  You've forgotten how to run the Empire.

You know the situation is even more dire than it feels when Eridan even darkens your door via pesterchum for the first time in sweeps.

CA: fef wwhat the fuck

CA: wwhat are you doin

CA: i mean im not an upstandin model of howw to run a govverment

CA: or a relationship

CA: or anythin really

CA: except a pirate ship cod damn am i good

CA: but thats not the point

CA: i knoww i fucked things up betwween us

CA: but seriously im wworried

CA: wwhats wwrong wwith you

You have realized too late you are actually, stupidly, full on flushed red for Nepeta Leijon.


	2. the end

She comes back after two weeks. She looks relaxed and has much greater muscle definition.

She and her moirail probably work out.

She also doesn't seem much interested in talking to you. And she makes a statement of leaving the palace well before morning. She doesn't say it, but she will not stay here. She is escaping from you.

You suspect if she could have, she would have stayed away longer.

She can't really avoid you, since her job is to tail you constantly. But she looks like she'd stab you as soon as talk.

You should've been expecting this, but it's hard not to be disappointed.

You try anyway.

"Nepeta!"

"Your Imperial Radiance, Leader of the Alternian Nation, Empress Peixes the 19th."  

The excessive formality is like a punch in the face. This is your fullest title, only used on the most official and ceremonial occasions. You’re surprised she even knows it.

It is not how you would like to be addressed by a friend.

(By a flushcrush. By a matesprit.)

"I - I missed you. I'm..."

She stands there in front of you, face stony and unmoving.

It takes you an eon to force the words through your lips. "I'm sorry, Nepeta."

You want to cry.

For a moment, she looks like she is about to bullshit you with pretending nothing ever happened. That she is just another guard. "Yes, Empress" this, "your Imperial Radiance" that.

But then she just nods. "You should be."

And the conversation is over.

You realize suddenly with a sharp and painful clarity that you have never been rejected before. This should not be happening.

This is what it feels like.

You don't think you're going to talk to her again. And you barely sleep that day.

Nepeta is always right there, right near you. She knows how you are overreacting. She knows how unhappy you are. But she doesn't say a word to you the entire week. Just kills the assassins. It is so much worse that she doesn't seem to care and that you are making a fool of yourself.

By the end of the week, you are driven to distraction. Your claws are oversharp, you are exhausted and you haven't been eating enough. You can't make eye contact with her.

The empress of the Alternian Nation is a wreck.

And of course, that's when trouble comes.

When you wake up on a sharply windy evening of the dim season's eighteenth equinox, something is wrong.

One of your day guards is dead.

Khosli Tonqyr was barely nine sweeps. You send her matesprit 18,000 caegars. It is a pitiful sum of money, but this is also the first time anyone has been sent any money for their loss.

You tell yourself that you are trying. It is a lie.

When you walk into council that morning, there is a hush of silenced gossip. Or, you consider, something worse. Maybe it isn't ridiculous to be paranoid. The attempts on your life have been increasingly high quality lately.

The highblood majority largely does not approve of your more radical policies (And they haven't been half as radical as they should be). Or your "fraternizing" with Nepeta (Not that that's a problem anymore). Or your disregard for certain traditions. Or you in general.

You know at least a third of them have had hands in some of your more creative assassination attempts. But, hey, all's fair in politics.

You're not going to be okay with trolls dying. Or you dying, for that matter.

You're going to have to watch your step.

Straightening up, you slam your trident to the floor. The room is already silent, but who couldn't use a fucking loud noise early in the evening?????

"Opinions on situation with Qo'aitansu insurgency." Your voice is weaker and scratchier than you would like. But it is furious. You are leaving absolutely no room for fuckery.

"Madam Empress, our contingency would like to suggest a treaty."

You are surprised. It is Jlaiyk Vrhnsa. Your single yellowblood. Thank god for the lowbloods, you think bitterly.

You nod. "Do you have a draft?" Paper slides its way over to your throne. You scan. It looks watertight.

"Alternative suggestions?"

You receive seven different highbloods proposing war in slightly different ways. War that would likely be extremely violent and long over only a few hundred miles of your millions. 

"The proposed treaty has been accepted. We will pursue this course of action immediately. Counciltrolls Vrhnsa, Tykeer, Btimlo, and Guzmij, please assemble a party for approval to visit the Qo'aitansu stronghold."

Everybody is talking at once.

"We would like to appeal, Empress!"

"The decision is final," you manage. "Other items for discussion?"

You mangle through an hour of arguments and finally bring everything to a close.

Nepeta disrupts an extra four attempts that week.

The level of murmuring in your council is beginning to worry you. Traitors have not been a problem yet. And every challenge comes in its time.

You think the lowbloods may be the only ones not trying to kill you.

And then you are shaken awake in the middle of the day. Anpovhar has invaded. They are taking no prisoners.

For Anpovhar, the last twenty sweeps of the Condesce's rule have been marked with border disputes and skirmishes, gradually increasing in frequency and intensity. This, too, was coming to you.

The last straw was apparently your decision not to fight with the Qo'aitansu. It is truly impossible to please everybody.

But three villages have already been demolished. You immediately make the decision to go to war. It isn’t really a decision.

"Counciltrolls," you begun. "The time has come, and I think many of you wanted it to come sooner. We are at war."

You entire council starts shouting at the same time. No two of them have the same opinion.

The next ten hours seem like nothing could get worse.

After what feels like sweeps and sweeps of negotiations and offenses, bargains, compromises and tactics, you make your escape. Never has your respiteblock been so welcoming.

Until you wake up in the middle of the day with a blade to your throat.  You start to scream and a firm hand is abruptly clamped across your mouth.

“Shh!”

By all the Forsaken Gods of Farthest Ring. It’s Nepeta.

You knew she’d been upset at you, but _really_. This is a bit extreme.

She sees your indignant face and starts to whisper, barely audible even though she’s right next to you. “I’m trying to save your life, Empress. Please be a little grateful.”

Fair enough. You can live with that.

She hauls you to your feet silently, dragging you out of the slime. You struggle, wanting to have some more control over this or at least ask a few questions – what is she doing? Can you at least shower? Change your clothes? Take something with you? Where are you going? – but to no avail.

You’re more tired than you’d believe, so you aren’t sure what she’s doing for the next few minutes. And then you are falling out of your window.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

There is nothing to catch you! Only a person, who you will probably squash flat!

Nepeta, what the fuck!!!!

Youthoughtshewassavingyourlifeohnoohnosheisthemasterassassinyoutrustedherandnowyouaregoingtodiewhatishappeninghereyoudontwanttodieyoudontwanttodieohgl’boglybyoudontwanttodie-

You land in the arms of a very strong troll. He is incredibly large and seems mildly cross. 

“Your Imperial Radiance, Leader of the Alternian Nation, Empress Peixes the 19th,” he says. You squeak.

“I am your humble subject, Equius Zahhak. I believe my moirail is in your employ.”

You blush. So, this is her famous moirail. Holy shit. You almost want to laugh – you never stood a chance. (First, you’re clearly not her type if her type is superbuff and polite blueblood trolls. Second, after some reflection you discovered the two of you never actually would have had a healthy and mutually conciliatory pale relationship because you had a complex and unhealthy fixation where you saw her as simultaneously lesser and greater than you, etc., etc., yada yada…)

You realize Nepeta has suddenly appeared behind you.

“Feferi,” she says. “You can get down now.” Almost mockingly.

You feel Equius flinch. “Nepeta! How dare-“

The two of them have a brief, silent conversation of meaningful glances over your head.

After a minute, you tentatively slide onto the ground.

Then there are noises from the castle and without needing to agree on it, you all start to run. You’re stumbling after Nepeta and Equius is guarding your back. You still have no idea what’s going on.

The three of you pile into a tiny scuttlebuggy and drive at roughly the speed of light. After a seemingly interminable ride, Nepeta screeches to a stop and you find that you’ve arrived at the tiniest hive you’ve ever seen.

 “It’s large by olive standards,” she glares.

Two minutes later, two hundred and nineteen miles away, your respiteblock fills with poisonous gas and crumbles. You are asleep on Nepeta’s couch with a sopor patch under your head. It is the cheapest thing you have ever slept on.

When you wake up, you’re cramped and not very well rested, but you are alive.

Nepeta and Equius are arguing quietly, with lots of wild hand gestures on her part and stoic, unmoving facial expressions on his.

You clear your vocal shaft and both of them turn around with similar slight frowns. Equius’s vanishes, presumably upon the re-realization of who you are. Nepeta’s does not.

“Thank you,” you interject, before she can snap at you. “I really mean it. I treated you really badly and here you are saving my life.”

She nods. “You’re welcome.” (Equius elbows her. She elbows him back.)

“What happened?”

“People are trying to kill you.”

You almost laugh. “That happens all the time.”

She raises an eyebrow and grins slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen her grin in ages. “I should know. It’s my job to stop it.”

You suddenly really want to hug her, right now, just for being so perfectly Nepeta, but that would be all wrong and ruin the small bit of redemption you’ve gleaned. You’d prefer to avoid that and the ensuing permanent awkwardness.

“Whale, thank you for doing your job.” And you smile back.

You hope that you will be able to hug her soon.

You hope you’ll be able to hug her soon.

Nepeta is all businesslike, not smiling anymore. “Paw- honestly, your Radiance. They’re serious this time.”

You’d roll your eyes, but something tells you that she actually means it and you’d better be fucking listening.

“They’ve always seemed serious. What’s changed?”

“You.” Her face is completely inscrutable.

You take a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

She allows herself a smile. “You’ve grown, Feferi. You’re a better person than you were when you killed your ancestor.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes.” She holds your gaze for a full fifteen seconds and then turns away, fiddling with something.

“Whale, what’s going on?”

She swings back to face you abruptly and begins to rattle off a string of facts. “At least half of your council is in on it, mainly orchestrated by Counciltroll Swopeb, no outside involvement suspected. It’s probably a power grab, like the rest, but rumor has it they’re getting a payoff from Anpovhar. This is the third, best and most desperate attempt they’ve made and at this point my advice is to go back immediately.”

You blink. “But – they’re trying to kill me!” You feel like a very small child. It would not be a stretch to say that you are experiencing at least a small amount of shellshock from the past few hours.

“Ki- Exile all of them.”

“Can’t we - I - just… kind of wait? Until it blows over?”

“Feferi. You’re smarter than that.”

“I know, I know. I have to stay in control. Of the Nation.” She nods.

“I can’t do this! I’m barely eleven!”

She rolls her eyes. “Tough sweetened nutritional discs, literal princess.”

You laugh and grab her hands like nothing ever happened, but, of course, it did, so you both become intensely awkward .8 seconds later.

Nepeta hesitates. “Come on,” she says, cocking her head towards her tiny scuttlebuggy. “You must go forth and run the empire.”

‘I need you.”

“No, you don’t,” she laughs. “But I’m coming anyway.”

She hops into the passenger seat and as soon as you sit down in the back, her moirail guns the engine so much you nearly fly out.

“Clam,” you mutter, ruffled and fake-annoyed in the way where you want to sulk, but you’re still laughing at yourself.

They fist bump. The diamond way.

When Equius parks near the crowd assembling by the ruins of your respiteblock, you are less confident than you have been in months.

Nepeta sweeps the area, because assassins do not give up without a fight, and then you take your stand on a balcony.

“Citizens of Alternia,” your hastily improvised speech begins.

“Bitches are trying to kill me. Look at that. The palace is fucked. But me? I’m fine. Nobody is gonna take me down. So don’t even try.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’ve heard that many of my counciltrolls may or may not have been involved in these circumstances. So, effective immediately, all of you except the eight counciltrolls most recently appointed, are exiled to the Outer Reach. If I find out that your asses remain onplanet, if I see you around, you will be executed.”

You pause.

 “That’s about it. Trolls interested in rebuilding the palace will be paid 50 caegars an hour. Have a nice night.”

There is a general uproar immediately after you finish speaking. But you’re not gonna deal with that now.

You retreat into the remaining sections of palace still intact and collapse into a soft chair.

 Nepeta appears opposite you.

“Was that good?”

“You rocked.”

You grin. “You… you _cuttlefish_.” It’s an odd choice of things to say, but it just feels right. (Goddamn do you love cuttlefish.)

You expect her to take offense or something, but she just looks quietly happy, almost shy. Like she knows how you mean that and she’s not objecting.

“Nepeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry. About everything before you left.”

“Are you? Because you really, really have to mean it.”

You nod. “I mean it. Prawn- honestly.”

You sit there for a while, both of you quiet, thinking.

“Are you with me? You have my back, right? Not just as my imperial guard.”

“I got you, Feferi. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s – that’s good.”

“Don’t you have anything more to say? I’m surprised, Feferi – you’re not really a girl of few words.” She’s teasing, but her face is serious. If you have a chance, it’s now.

You take a deep breath. “Nepeta, you actually mean a whale of a lot to me.”

She watches you, waiting, with her big catlike eyes, irises still a mix of green and black.

“Ever since Eridan, I’ve never really been close to anyone. It’s been weird, Nepeta. Lonely. I’m a friendly troll! People are just scared. Of me and of all this. But you’re someone I can be close to. Someone I can rely on. Someone who I don’t think was ever quite scared of me. You changed me.”

“I don’t know about that,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“But I think I know about that. I think that the only thing I’ve really known about in a while is…. you.”

She is tracing a finger along the edges of her face. Jaw, chin, mouth. Waiting for you to say what is coming next.

“You are the best troll I’ve known in a long time.”

“Nepeta?”

“Feferi.” She is watching you very closely. Trust me, her eyes say. 

“I think I love you.”

She wraps her arms around your neck. “I love you too.”

And then you kiss Nepeta Leijon and everything is right with the world.


End file.
